Personal Narrative: A Day At Grandma's Funeral

Every Christmas Eve our family gathers around the coffee table in our apartment in New York City. During the day we go to see the tree at Rockefeller Center and buy chocolate candies from the Greenwood Pastry on the corner. Uncle Riley leads the way as we walk the streets until the light begins to fade between the office towers and the crippled gargoyles forever perched on the corners of the buildings that illuminate a golden age gone by. We laugh together and reminisce about the previous Christmases we have spent together. The elevator seems quieter on these nights, almost as if it has a respect for the holiday, but I know it’s just because we’re all crammed in there together. When the doors open on the fifth floor, we spill out, pushing in …show more content…
Your grandfather asked the pastor to collect from the people of our town messages to carry to their loved ones in heaven, and to wish him the best of luck on his journey. The pastor fulfilled his duty with the greatest enthusiasm and your grandfather’s letter was published, with his permission, alongside his obituary a few days before his death. “On the night of December 31, 1899, Adam stood at the windowsill, gripping it tightly, looking at the flakes that were falling from the heavens. “‘None of them are alike,’ said your grandfather. He spent a good hour at the sill with Adam, standing with a newfound strength beside him. We all stayed up that night, watching the clock, holding my father’s hand, hugging him, crying. He said not to get too close because we might catch his disease, but this was it, so we clustered around him. As the clock neared midnight your mother said in a hushed tone, ‘I’m sorry, Rigel, for not believing in God. I trust him now, I know him. You and He have saved my son.’ A few minutes later, my father nodded his head as if asleep in his soft, red chair, but he never woke